Sportsman's Daily


Man “Lives” in Gym As Family Fortune Goes to Seed


The more "Todd the Bod" obsesses over his chiselled form, the more detached from reality he becomes. "We tried getting him home from the gym and getting him back to work, but he doesn't respond," said his distraught sister, Chastity Todd. "It's like talking to some weird muscle-bound action figure who blurts out random expressions that have nothing to do with what you just said. 'You can bounce quarters off these buns.' Chase, why are you telling me this? I barely recognize him anymore."

Bethesda, MD. (The Sportsman's Daily Wire Service) — Chase Todd was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Unfortunately, that silver spoon was usually brimming with Hagen Dazs almond hazelnut swirl and assorted decadent “treats.” For more than a decade of his adult life, the heir to the Todd Real Estate fortune tipped the scales at a mighty 420 pounds. “I had to do something, or I was staring death in the face,” Todd said. “If not death, certainly a crippling injury, which may not be as fearsome as death, but is every bit as hideous, depending on what you’re doing when you’re staring at it…though it’s more like looking on in horror than actual staring.”

Chase Todd then joined Bronze, a local gym in the Washington DC Metro. After just one month he was stunned by the results. Three years later, "Todd the Bod" is a lean 175 pounds – a weight he’s maintained for most of those three years.

However, there’s a dark side to his transformation: while Todd worked out, he hasn’t actually worked in more than two years, neglecting both the family’s vast family real-estate holdings and his shriveling investment portfolio. Despite pleadings from his wife, two kids, and his three younger siblings, Todd has thrown his attentions – and his money – at an endless parade of diet fads and fitness trends and has become a virtual prisoner of the Bronze gym. “Some people say they ‘live in the gym,’” club owner Miles Payson said while making those annoying little air quote signs. “But Todd actually does ‘live here.’ He’s got a cot in the back room and a personal, padlocked refrigerator where he keeps his dietary supplements. Hell, he closes the place up at night. He must be nocturnal – several times I had to swing by after hours and I heard the treadmill whirring in the dark. He may be part hamster, but he’s one hunk of rodent.”

Todd is now in phenomenal shape having reduced his body fat to seven percent. His trainer Cory Phelps describes his cardio-vascular condition as “Olympian” (though Phelps refrained from deploying those irritating air quotes).

But Chase Todd is running out of money, as his family is running out of patience (and money too since Todd manages the family real estate holdings). It’s not as though Todd doesn’t understand the impact his compulsions have had – it’s just that he has no ability to stop it.

“At first, I’ll admit, having ripped abs and a set of guns, with chicks and even guys at the gym begging to oil me up…it’s a rush, especially when it wasn’t too long ago that I weighed over 400 pounds. But what’s the use if I can’t afford car insurance…I may look like a bronzed god and have what every guy who's ever bought an exercise product off an infomercial wants, but this ain’t living. I’ve become a slave to my perfect human form.” Chase choked back tears and paused to admire himself before the full-length mirror. “But hell," he brightened, "check out these lats, bro. If I were gay – or a woman, in which case I’d be a trans-gendered, post-op man -- trust me, I’d fellate myself in a NY minute. Though I’d have to borrow cab fare to make it back home to the gym. Damn, that’s really sad.”

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